


Dear Diary,

by Mukunee



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, One Word Prompts, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mukunee/pseuds/Mukunee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of one word prompts / other little things i thought of! some will have their own warnings/tags, and i'll update as such! don't expect a regular upload schedule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Holiday- a day of festivity or recreation when no work is done.

_“Uhm,_ Heather? What are you doing?” It was currently one in the morning. Heather McNamara had gotten out of bed for a drink of water. When she went downstairs, Heather Chandler was frantically trying to wrap a small box in pretty, yellow wallpaper. “It’s like, really late.”

“Shit, Heather, go away!” Heather hissed, quickly shoving the box behind her back. “It’s Christmas Eve, go back to bed!”

No one spoke for a few moments, each pair of eyes locked in a sort of check with one another. Heather could force heather back into her bed, and Heather could come closer and see whatever Miss Chandler might be doing, and make fun of her or something. “Heather, why are you up so late?” Heather blinked, still not moving. Heather didn’t answer, though she did relax. Heather wasn't exactly the most threatening person. “Were you leaving cookies out for Santa, or something?” She joked.

“…” When taking another glance, Heather noticed there were two more boxes next to her. There was a green-wrapped one, and a blue. “Fine. You caught me. I was wrapping your presents. Congratulations.” She crossed her arms and let out a puff of air. Her face was as red as her signature scrunchie, perhaps even more so. “Oh… That’s really sweet, Heather.” She smiled softly and bent down next to her, trying to inspect the presents. “They’re really neatly done, too! How long have you been at this?” It had taken a solid thirty minutes per present. Heather wasn’t good at wrapping, or anything particularly nice really. She just wasn’t used to it. Heather basically grew up by herself, so she never found use out of wrapping boxes for a father who was never really there for her. What was the point?

She paused and thought for a moment before answering, “oh, not long. I’m the best when it comes to pretty much everything, so obviously, I’d be a natural at this, too.” Lying and bragging were always two of Chandler’s real talents.  “Well, I’m glad you weren’t up long! You really haven’t been sleeping well,” Heather frowned a little and took in a breath. “so once you finish here, can you go back to bed…?”

Chuckling softly, she nodded her head. “Sure, whatever you want… Pillowcase.” Heather went back up to bed, Heather following after a good hour. She wanted to make sure Heather’s present was wrapped the best.


	2. Responsible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to be responsible; being the primary cause of something and so able to be blamed or credited for it; having an obligation to do something, or having control over or care for someone, as part of one's job or role.

_Veronica_ was responsible, in more ways than one. She was responsible when it came to her schoolwork, when it came to her friends, and especially when it came to murder

 

She stared at her diary blankly, waiting for the words to come for her. It was freshmen year in college. Veronica’s existence had faded away to nothing, and she was a nobody again. The damage had already been done, though. Even if no one remembered what she did, she was still too damaged to be saved.

_“Ronnie, honey! You do know you need to move your hand on the paper to make words, right?”_ There she was. The bitch she was responsible for killing. “Oh, haha.” She sighed, pressing her pencil to her temple. This is what she had been cursed with. The ghosts of Chandler, Kurt, and Ram following her around until she finally joined Heather in hell.

_“I’ve heard undressing like, totally helps brain activity! You should try it.”_ Ram laughed, and Kurt quickly added, _“Oo! Yeah, yeah!”_ The two laughed together. Veronica wished she didn’t have to stare at them every second of her life. Chandler’s throat was blue, and her eyes were hazy and lifeless. When she opened her mouth, you could see that her tongue was burnt. And every once in a while, she caught a glimpse of the inside of her throat. That was the worst. It was burned, and charred, and grizzly, and so many other gross adjectives Veronica could think of. It made her sick to her stomach, just thinking about it.

Kurt and Ram each had bleeding, rotten gunshot wounds. They were clearly infected, and sometimes oozed a sick red color, that would stain Veronica’s books. It was _disgusting_. But, perhaps that’s just what she deserved. She was the one behind the bullet- she served Chandler that drink.

_“Hey, don’t you have a date with Pillowcase?”_ Heather asked, floating circles around the poor girl. _“Wouldn’t want to miss that train wreck. Just tell me when you two fuck, mmkay? I’d rather look at Martha Dumptrucks asscrack for an eternity than watch that."_

“Shit,” Veornica mumbled. She had forgotten she had a date with Heather. Choosing to ignore that comment, she stood up, throwing both the pencil and the book aside. “I’m totally gonna be late now.”

She started to fix her hair and re-apply her makeup, whispering various swear words under her breath. _“Oh, how irresponsible!”_ Heather laughed and watched her struggle. _“Maybe she’ll think you ditched her and cry! She always was a whiner.”_

A pang of guilt washed through her at the word ‘whine’. She remembered back to her days at Westerberg, and how Heather had tried to kill herself. That was her fault. If Veronica hadn’t gone after her, she would have been as dead as Heather. God, imagine if the only Heather left was Duke? “Shut up, Heather. I’m gonna text her now.”

_“… Hey, can you tell Heather I said hi?"_ Veronica was shocked at the ghost’s odd sense of... Not being a bitch? Veronica couldn't word it any other way, really. Was it kindness? Maybe it was just a selfish longing for what had been. Coughing up drain cleaner wasn’t exactly the best way to spend ones time. “What, you miss the whining pillowcase?” She rolled her eyes and grabbed a small, yellow purse (heather had given her that).

Heather scoffed, crossing her arms and phasing through the door. When Veronica opened it, the dead girl attempted to wrap her arms around Veronica. Naturally, her arms went right through her. _“I had a lot of things I wanted to do, okay? You killed me before I got to them. So stop pulling on my dick and just do it.”_

Veronica raised a brow. What did she mean by that? Was it possible that Heather wanted to be in her place, taking Heather out to a fancy dinner date? No, that’s absolutely stupid. “Whatever. I’ll tell her you said hi, if she even believes me.”

_“Thanks, ‘Ronnie.”_ Heather gave a half smile, half smirk “Damn, how did I end up being responsible for _you_?”


End file.
